


The Magical Mystery Tour!

by lowercasespaceship



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Adaptation, Adventure, Billy Shears - Freeform, Friendship, Song fic, based on The Magical Mystery Tour and Sgt. Pepper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 12:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18135620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowercasespaceship/pseuds/lowercasespaceship
Summary: During his very first performance with Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band, a tornado (literally) sweeps our protagonist, Billy Shears, off his feet and scatters him, his grandfather, and bandmates across Pepperland and the surrounding areas. He must team up with an all-seeing but know-nothing Fool and a runaway to bring them all home.





	1. Chapter 1

The Magical Mystery Tour

“Roll up for the Magical Mystery Tour! Step right this way!” The announcer's voice blared from the speakers mounted on various poles throughout the circus grounds. Today was the first of many performances as the renowned circus made its way across Pepperland.  
Inside the tent, cornered in a makeshift dressing room, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band tuned their guitars and cleared their throats for a long night of singing. Billy Shears tested his voice over and over in front of a mirror to the side. His grandfather would be watching tonight, judging them from a reserved seat above the excited crowds. Sgt. Pepper was no easy critic, and it had taken until he could barely walk or sing to hand his beloved act off to his grandson. The old man insisted that Billy Shears wouldn't like the job. When they went off on their own, The Lonely Hearts tended to attract trouble and often ended up in precarious situations that would leave most running for the hills in fright. But Billy felt he could handle it (he had no plans to stray very far from The Magical Mystery Tour, after all), and with enough persistence they had struck a deal. If he could satisfy Sgt. Pepper with the act tonight he would have the band and however many years ahead of him to perform here, there and everywhere, circus or no circus.  
He straightened his pink jacket for the third time and stomped his foot.  
“You all right there, mate?” Came the voice of M from where the rest of the band was gathered.  
“Yes, yes. A bit nervous, I suppose.”  
“We all are, you know. It's not every day we get to perform for the Sgt.”  
“What, instead of with him?” L asked.”  
“Precisely. It isn't the same at all as playin' with him.”  
“It must be worse for you though, Billy,” M continued. “You'll be a bug-”  
“In a jar.” Billy finished with a sigh. “Yeah. Grandfather'll have his eyes peeled for even a crack in my voice, the bloody old man. But anyway,” He turned at last from the mirror “no point worrying, I guess. It's time to perform! Are you ready, lads?”  
“Yeah!” they all said in unison.

Billy took a peek through the curtain that hung over the stage. Most of the seats in the circus tent had been filled by now, with there being only five minutes until the performance. He tried to keep his eyes on the crowd, but couldn't help a quick glance at his grandfather seated in a special place up front.  
“Roll up! Roll up for Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band, everybody, step right this way! Last call for the title act of the Magical Mystery Tour!” The announcer blared over the speakers outside.  
Billy drew back and turned to his bandmates behind him. M was giving the bass a final tune, while L and H stood stationed by the mic with their guitars, waiting for the show to begin. A  
“Well, lads,” Said Billy with a nervous smile. “That's about our queue. Ready?”  
“Ready.” M said. The others nodded in agreement.  
“We've got one shot at this.” This he said to himself.  
Billy made his way back to the drums. Even though Billy Shears would have his name as the leader of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band he would still only play the drums for most songs-- at least at first. M would start the show off by introducing the band in a flurry of song while Billy played on the drums, and then they would have Billy on the vocals for the next song, and then go back again. They would do it again a few other times during the show but that first switch was the hardest. It wasn't cake to sing and play drums at the same time, and that along with stage-jitters ran the risk of a shaky voice. He had to come at it with every ounce of confidence he had.  
“10 second countdown.” H mumbled, looking pensively at the blue clock that hung to the side of the stage.  
“9...8...7”  
Billy adjusted his position on the drummer's seat.  
“6...5...4”  
The murmur of the crowd could be heard on the other side of the curtain. They were just here to see a good show.  
“3...2...1”  
But for Billy, this was life-changing.  
The curtains swung open and the crowd burst into cheers as the first notes of the night were played. Billy, mostly by instinct, began to play his part of the drums, filling in the small gaps with sound and giving the song a new dimension. His nerves dissolved into the music and he soon found himself smiling and bobbing his head with the beat.  
“Now let me introduce to you, the one and only, Billy Shears of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band!” M sang with as much gusto as he could muster. He swung his arm to gesture at Billy.  
“Billy Shears!” L, M, and H all sang together. The crowd cheered and clapped. Grandfather sat silent in his chair. Billy had barely the time to suck in a breath before it was his turn to sing.  
“What would you think if I sang out of key- Woah!” he was cut short by a sudden darkness that fell upon the tent. The lights all fizzled out at once, one or two flinging sparks onto the crowd. The tent suddenly grew very loud, like a buffeting wind was attacking it from all sides.  
“Uh, Uhh, stay calm, folks, it's just a technical error.” The announcer rushed to assure the crowd, but his voice was lost in the growing panic and the louder and louder wind. “Please, stay in your seats!”  
“Tornado!” Billy wasn't sure whose voice bellowed through the tent like a rolling thunder but it sent the crowd into hysterics. The wind screamed and the canvas that made up the roof and walls of the tent began to flap dangerously. Billy hopped down from his drum set and stumbled forward.  
“M!” He shouted through the chaos. “L!” No reply. They must have run to find shelter from the twister. “Grandfathe-” His voice was lost in the wind. Suddenly the ropes that pinned the front end of the tent to the ground snapped and the whole thing flew off. Billy tried to fall flat on his belly but found that he was no longer on the ground. The wind had picked him up like cake on a fork. He found himself high above the circus and briefly noticed how green everything looked before being violently sucked into the swirling cacophony of what he assumed to be the tornado. He never did get the chance to check for himself.


	2. The Fool on the Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy wakes up in the middle of... somewhere, but a know-nothing somebody.

The Fool on the hill

“Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello,” A raspy voice repeated. Something kept poking Billy's cheek as well and he scrunched up his face in protest. “You're alive, you know.”  
“Yeah, I-.” He sat up and blinked. A stranger, stranger than any stranger Billy ever did see, sat before him. The man had pink wrinkled skin, large crystal-like eyes, and short golden hair. He wore a walrus costume that covered all of his body save for his neck, and held a mask, that Billy assumed completed the costume, in one hand and a long walking stick in the other (which he used to poke Billy). “Wh-where in Pepperland am I?”  
“The Hill, of course.” said the strange stranger “But I should really be asking who you are.”  
“Billy. Billy Shears. Of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.”  
“Are you? That's a mouthful of a name. People like simplicity now, you know. Where's Sgt. Pepper?”  
“He's retired. I'm his grandson.” Billy looked around him. They were, indeed, on a hill. A very, very tall hill that seemed to tower over nearly all of Pepperland. He couldn't make any details of the land below him out, though, for it was all too far away. “Who're you?”  
“Me?” The stranger looked incredulous “I'm the Fool you take me for.”  
Billy scratched his head. “What?”  
“You don't know me? Well, young Billy, we're to fix that. They call me The Fool and I live on The Hill. I'm The Fool On The Hill.”  
“...and?”  
“And I see everything that goes on down in Pepperland.”  
“Everything, you say?” Billy tapped his chin. “How exactly?”  
A mischievous grin crept onto The Fool's face. He tapped his temple with a walrus hand.  
“With my crystal eyes. You know, you should count yourself lucky that you got blown here by that nasty tornado. Not many come to the hill.”  
“Except for musicians carried in on tornadoes?”  
“Precisely. And those who do come here often don't understand me.”  
“That's not hard to believe” Billy mumbled to himself.  
“So they call me a fool and go on their way. They think me a liar- crazy- but that's because they don't listen....” The Fool cupped his ear with a walrus hand for a moment, as if listening for some sound only few could hear. Must have been, Billy heard nothing. “But I see everything with my crystal eyes- anything you'd want to see, and I can be your eyes, for a price.”  
“Are you taking to rhyming now?” Said Billy, though he was getting rather excited “If you can see everything, can you tell me where my bandmates are so I can get out of here? I lost them in the tornado...”  
“Weren't you listening? I can see everything-”  
“Yes, yes, for a price. Name it and I'll pay.” Billy said, though he hadn't any money.  
“No, no, no, my services can't be bought with money.” The Fool shook his head profusely.  
“Then what?” Billy sighed. He should have expected this.  
“Music! You're a musician! And I want you to write me a song!” The Fool said with a toothy grin. “I haven't heard music in years.”  
“You're a crazy old man, you know that?”  
“So?” The Fool raised an eyebrow. “What's that got to do with it?”  
“Don't know.” Billy scratched his head.  
“Really? I was hoping you would.” The Fool seemed to dwell on this for a moment. “Anyway,” He continued “if you want to find your friends you'll have to write me a song. And it'd better be a good one.”  
“What if I don't want your help? I could go off and find The Lonely Heart's by myself.” Billy turned his nose up.  
“Are you sure about that, Mister Shears?” The Fool said “They could be anywhere in Pepperland, you know, and there's no telling where. You could be searching for years. Good luck getting off the hill by yourself anyway.”  
“Oh,” Billy threw up his hands. “All right! Have you got any instruments? If I'm to write a song I'll need instruments, I will. Percussion, a piano, bass...”  
“Let me see,” The Fool thought. “Ah! Yes! There's an old piano by the Blue Tree.”  
“Right. I guess I'll get this over with then...” Billy huffed. He stood and looked 'round him again. “And... where is this 'Blue Tree'?”  
“Up.” The Fool pointed. On the very top of the hill where the ground became a bit more level there was a very tall tree with a brown trunk (as most trees have) and blue leaves (as most trees have not). They weren't a soft blue either but a very bright, jarring blue. Looking closer, Billy thought he could see green apples nestled among the leaves. More important than the tree, though, was the piano that sat beside it. It looked terribly abused, with paint splattered all over the sides and the strings cut and hung up in the branches of the Blue Tree. Billy shook his head and looked back to The Fool.  
“Now, now, Fool, I can't play a piano like that.” He said.  
“Why not?” Asked The Fool.  
“Well, it won't even work, will it, man? The strings are all hung up, the sides are beaten in. You can't expect me to write a song on that.”  
“Now don't be so quick to dismiss a perfectly good piano.” The Fool waved his hand at Billy, who was now quite baffled. “You haven't even tried it yet.”  
“I don't need to. It's clear to see it's impossible to play.”  
“Say, that's a good line right there. 'It's clear to see, impossible to play.. uh, the game, la da da'” The Fool sang. “hmm, nevermind. That won't work.”  
“The piano...” Billy said.  
“Ah, yes. Well if you really feel that way you're welcome to leave to find your friends on your own. I certainly won't stop you.”  
“Fine.” Billy was now quite red in the face. “I'll try your piano.”  
And with that he stomped his foot and began the steep climb to the very top of The Hill. By the time he'd reached the Blue Tree he had a few lines- the budding of an idea. The song would be about the fool. And if only out of spite, it would be a darned good song.  
He reached the top at last and paused a moment to catch his breath.  
“You take your time, don't you?” Billy looked up. Standing by the Blue Tree was a tall creature standing on its legs, with a bulbous snout and tusks protruding from its mouth.  
“Woah!” Billy jumped in surprise.  
“Ha ha!” The creature laughed, and, bringing its flipper-like hands to his face in a motion that quite shocked Billy, removed his head entirely, revealing a familiar pink face underneath.  
“Oh, it's you.” Billy crossed his arms, quite embarrassed.  
“Ha ha! Did I frighten you?” The Fool reared his head back and laughed. “You thought I was a monster!” He kept laughing. Billy felt his face turn beat red.  
“Why of course I did, what with you wearing that mask- Say, how'd you get up here before me?”  
“Oh, The Fool has his ways.” The Fool waved off the question. “Now, the song” He rubbed his flippers together in anticipation.  
“Right.”  
Up close, the piano looked even more dismal. The strings were all hung up in the branches of the Blue Tree and spiders had made their webs among them. The piano itself was the upright type, and was covered in various paints and terribly worn by years of exposure. But at least there was a piano seat. He rolled up his sleeves and sat down.  
Middle C. He tentatively played Middle C, and the sound that rung out from that piano nearly knocked him off his seat. It was clear, crystal clear, and echoed beautifully across the vast expanse of Pepperland below them. It worked. He tried again, this time with A in the Major key. The sound was full and majestic and beautiful. He couldn't believe it. The keys worked. He couldn't help but laugh. Of course they did.  
“That was a nasty trick, old fool.” He laughed. “This piano is the best I ever did play, and yet it looks so broken in. How'd you do it?”  
“Like I said, I've got my ways.” The Fool smiled.  
“'Course you do.” He shook his head and began testing out the rest of the keys. Sounded good. Now to write this bloody song. Now to write this bloody song. Now to write this bloody song. Now to write this bloody-

Billy Shears awoke with a splitting headache. The grass was wet with morning dew and mist, and despite a thick cloud cover the light was far too bright. He squinted at the area around him, finding soon that he could barely see past a few yards. Where in Pepperland was he? He stood (or tried to, but became so light-headed he doubled over for a good minute), finding no other apparent solution to the problem of “Completely lost with no sense of direction.”  
He wandered a bit, with not a clue where to go, until nearly tumbling down a steep grass slope. Suddenly the events of the past however-how-long came flooding back to him. The freak tornado, The Fool on The Hill, the Blue Tree. He tossed about the idea that he'd dreamt that last part in his mind for a few beats before concluding that he couldn't rely on his memory alone. The hill was as steep as the one in his dream, though he'd never been there. How could he dream about a place he'd never seen? If it was the same hill then he was at the top of it, and if he actually did meet The Fool then there must be a blue tree and a broken piano not far away. A dream would explain the piano playing a beautifully as it did (though in Pepperland, he wouldn't be surprised if it worked in the real world, too), but if it was there he could never be sure.  
He thought of all this while stalking about on the top of The Hill, and, right on cue, Blue Tree and the broken piano came into view. The piano looked no worse for wear- or, well, no worse than it had in his dream. The sides were still bashed in and the strings were still entangled with the branches of the tree and paint was still splattered all over. But what attention the piano held dissipated at the lumpy shape he saw in the mist just past the tree. Was it? No. Couldn't be.  
The events of the past few hours had felt more and more like a dream now that he was awake, but seeing the very piano and tree he'd never seen in his life before then made him doubt this even more. But still, as he tentatively made his way to the lumpy shape, he knew what he would see.  
The Fool was sitting cross-legged and still in the grass where the hill suddenly became very steep.  
“What's going on?” He asked the walrus. The Fool inside the costume did not reply. He came closer. The Fool did not move. “Hello? Fool?” he waved his hands in front of the walrus mask. Perhaps the man was in a trance. Billy thought of his dream- or what might have been a dream, and, with a quiet nervousness, reached his hands around The Fool's head and removed the walrus mask.  
The Fool wore a foolish grin but he did not look up when Billy removed his mask. He was perfectly still. Billy crouched down in front of The Fool. The Fool stared ahead with his crystal eyes, reflecting nothing but the foggy skies all around them. He didn't even blink. It was then that Billy knew the past day had been a dream, and The Fool couldn't speak to him. He had dreamed about this place he'd never been because that was how The Fool could communicate.  
“The Fool on the Hill,” Billy mused “I see.”  
If that was so then Billy knew exactly what to do, The Fool had told him, after all, and it was then that Billy knew exactly what The Fool's song would be.

Billy sat down at the piano and cleared his throat.  
“Day after day...” he sang. A moment later the next line came to him. “Alone on a hill... The man with the foolish grin is sitting perfectly still...”  
The piano echoed across the wide expanse of fog as did Billy's sorrowful melody. He sang out with as much musicality as his dry throat would allow him, and when he was done he sat there for a while. Something about seeing The Fool in his true state made Billy sad. He almost wanted to stay until he fell asleep again. Then he could speak to The Fool once more. But no, his band was scattered across Pepperland in who knew how bad a shape and he had to find them.  
It was at this point that the brand new headman for Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band wasn't sure of what to do. His thought was that by playing the song The Fool had requested in his dream he would be able to locate his bandmates, but now that he thought about it, he realized he had no clue how. How was the fool to show him his bandmates?  
“Wait,” he said aloud. He'd remembered what the man had said- something about.... His crystal eyes! He saw everything with his crystal eyes. Billy, seeing no other way, got in front of The Fool and looked into his eyes.


End file.
